


Oh, whatever goes around eventually comes back to you... So you gotta be careful baby, and look both ways before you cross my mind

by thatsjustHoneyDewbabe



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Platonically Of Course, Serious Injuries, Temporary Blindness, post season 8 non canon compliant, sometimes u buy a ring for ur bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22257934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsjustHoneyDewbabe/pseuds/thatsjustHoneyDewbabe
Summary: Shiro's face shifts from gay panic to gay confusion."And I walk out of the shower," Keith exclaims, "and catch," his motions to the room, where Shiro is acting a fool, "this- what am I? Some dirty little secret of yours?""Oh my god," Shiro gasps, returning to his gay panic mode.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 226
Collections: Ace Pilot Exchange 2019





	Oh, whatever goes around eventually comes back to you... So you gotta be careful baby, and look both ways before you cross my mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hchano](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hchano/gifts).



> This is for the AP exchange! Sorry I am so late hchano ;; I do hope you like this!!

Until Shiro’s eyes made contact with the simple silver band ring, the thought of buying anyone ring, especially for his best friend, was unthinkable.

“What were you doing in a jewelry store in the first place?”

A moment of weakness; a lapse of judgment. The young Admiral was busy daydreaming about the what-ifs, the pure daydream of being more than best friends forever. Tiny engrained stars on the interior are what sold him.

It enticed him.

“Oh, buddy,” Matt groans during Shiro’s inevitable hung up over buying the ring first before their first date (if Keith actually reciprocated his feelings), “You have a storm comin’.”

Weeks later, the storms come barreling in.

As soon as he finds out where Keith is, Shiro practically jogs over to the Garrison Hospital. 

Terrified.

“The wound isn’t deep, his sight isn't irreparable,” his doctor says as he walks Shiro through the busy halls of the Harrison. There was a recent attack during a normal excursion around rural new Daizabaal. A rogue had a peculiar vendetta towards a crew member of Keith’s regular small knit crew. But you can never sneak past a paladin of Voltron, and Keith took the blow meant for the crew member without delay.

Keith prefers to dote, notably on Shiro. That’s the whole reason Shiro thinks he’s still alive, from Keith’s faithful doting and dedication to shield him. To take the brunt of his pain and soothe his hurts.

Attempting to center himself and steady his breathing, Shiro pushes away the image of Keith, his Keith, his treasure, hurting momentarily. How Keith came millimeters away from having his eyesight taken away from him permanently. It wouldn't be the end of the world; in fact, his other senses would be even more heightened. Keith adapts to anything.

The assailant went for the crew member's throat. Keith jumped forward, pushing them out of the way and the sharp blade they used swiped at Keith’s eyes, successfully nicking them.

The two of them stop in front of a chestnut door, and the doctor knocks three times.

“Come in,” calls out a low, frayed voice.

Thick bandages are wrapped around his head, shielding his eyes.

The doctor pats Shiro’s shoulder and takes off down the hall, giving a casual wave. 

“Stop,” Keith answers softly, diminutive as he’s hunched and curled up. “It’s okay. It’s not as bad as you think.” He explains his injury, like the blood seeping through the bandages, is arbitrary. 

Shiro shakes, hospital rooms still remind him of cages. 

“Keith,” he says, “You’re right.” He lips his licks, noting how chapped they are, “I managed to convince them not to keep you overnight. 

Keith hums, nodding. “I heard… The Garrison hasn't changed. Anything for the Golden Boy.”

There’s a slight slur in his voice, a side effect of whatever pain meds they’ve driven down Keith’s throat. Shiro’s lips quirk up into a smile.

“Shut up.”

The wolf flashes into existence a second later. He nudges Keith’s side, and Keith brings a hand up to pet him.

“Aye aye, Admiral.”

“I bet you’re excited to get out of here.”

The wolf proceeds to swing his tail so hard it hits the wall.

“We both are,” Keith sighs, “this really isn’t what you think it is. This blood is from my eyelids, my eyeballs aren’t bleeding. My corneas are scratched. They’ll be fine, Shiro-,” he fishes for Shiro’s hand and takes it, “I’m gonna be okay. Alright?” He says with absolute certainty, squeezing their hands together.

Keith’s robustness has never failed to impress him, bring him back from living off-kilter. 

Before they take off, Shiro gets handed all of the supplies he’ll need: gauze, medical tape, bandages, antibiotics, and pain medications. A nurse instructs him how to change the dressing and the large dark stitches across his eyelids twist Shiro’s stomach. He’s forced to help get a thick layer of antibiotic gel smeared in Keith’s scratched eyes. They’re murky, like an overcast on a night sky. Shiro can see the bright, precise slice. 

Keith bites his lip throughout the whole ordeal. Shiro sets up another appointment with the doctor in Keith’s stead; his boy has officially clocked out, fed up with bullshit, and is using a very happy to help space wolf as a cushion to incline on.

“We’re all good to go, Keith, ready when you are-” He’s incapable of finishing his sentence as the wolf meteorically transports them all to Shiro’s living quarters in the Garrison. 

“I’m all set.”

Shiro puts a hand on Keith’s shoulder and slowly pulls the very disoriented love of his life into his arms to steady him. “... We’re already here.

“Oh....”

“You couldn’t feel it?” 

“It’s the pain meds,” Keith explains.

Shiro’s living quarters are large, and the layout is similar to a studio apartment.

In the dim illumination of Shiro’s bedroom, he gets a better look at Keith. His skin is sallow, and he carries himself with spartan straight posture despite a prominent limp in his walk. Right now, he’s forced into lanquidity. Currently unviable, Keith’s silence is telling as Shiro maunders around, stripping the bedsheets off and stumblingly spreading fresh ones on. 

Keith begins to strip off the outer layers of his commander uniform, and Shiro hears Keith haphazardly drop them to the carpet floor while his attention goes to his wardrobe. He fishes through it. Keith’s grown substantially, but Shiro still towers over him (something he secretly revels in). Undoubtedly, the most petite pair of sweatpants will fit. It does have a drawstring, and he doesn’t bother finding a shirt. Keith prefers to be as naked as possible in private.

The spacesuit that clings like another layer of skin underneath the armor and showy accessories is all that’s left. It hugs around Keith’s firm body. Keith smiles dolefully at Shiro, quietly asking for help to get the rest off. Shiro loves Keith’s smiles just meant for him; this one, however, is benumbed; which he believes is from a new lack of mobility and, most importantly, Keith’s independence.

Keith huffs, glowering because he’s always been able to read Shiro’s mind- and frustrated from not being able to get the snug uniform off on his own. Shiro floats over Keith, and together they begin to peel the suit bit by bit from Keith’s bruised frame.

“I got you,” Shiro states, and the suit comes off promptly after they get it past his hips. 

“Thanks,” he replies, putting his hand out, palms up for whatever Shiro has chosen for him to wear.

“Hope you don’t mind, they're the ugly rainbow ones Matt gave me.”

Keith smiles, content. “I need more color in my life.”

“I know you hate this,” Keith hums, agreeing, “But… We finally get to see each other. It’s been weeks.”

Keith's shoulders droop, an ephemeral bout of pout, “I’m sorry. I know you’re tired. Taking care of me is the last thing you need.”

“Not at all. I get to spend time with you. That’s what I care about,” Shiro disagrees, it’s nice to indulge you he doesn’t add, reminiscent of their days before Kerberos when Keith was a rough around the edges skinny alley cat who just needed someone to take on the role of helping him heal from his scars.

Before the war.

(Before Keith’s super hot growth spurt from being on a space whale thingy that had the clone sputtering.)

Before their life-shattering fight, before Shiro’s revelation that Keith is everything to him.

“I love you.” He still hears Keith's ragged, all-encompassing declaration, milliseconds away from a deadly closing.

“You need to take more time off,” Keith’s drained and too insipid of any of his bite. “I hear it. In your voice, your gait, how the ATLAS drones.” Keith frowns. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Last night.”

“Longer than three hours.”

“Couldn’t tell you then, baby.”

The two of them are complementary. Shiro favors spurning help to act in the role of the unstoppable, impenetrable Admiral of the ATLAS. Keith plays a parallel position. Their contrast is that most of the time Keith succeeds while Shiro gets concerned glances from his subordinates.

Keith doesn’t answer. Badgering Shiro about the neglect of his body fuels his stubbornness. They quietly settle in and relish each other’s company, in the lacuna between playing the roles of diplomats and rebuilders of the universe. 

Shiro calling Keith baby is simply an evolution of their relationship.

“Do you want to take a bath?” 

Keith shakes his head. “Not right now.”

“Sleep?” 

Keith nods enthusiastically.

“Then bath?”

“Yes,” Keith says excitedly, nodding harder.

“ I can wash your hair for you.”

Keith starts to undo his braid. “Maybe I’ll let you wash more, more than just that,” he responds clumsily, “I bet you’d really like that.” and if Shiro isn’t losing his bananas, then Keith is totally flirting with him. 

“I’d love that,” Shiro says, and he’s taken aback by the sudden hoarseness in his voice, “I love taking care of you.”

“Me too,” Keith says, and if Shiro’s ears are working, then he comes off as sounding disappointed. Keith frowns, and Shiro remembers that Keith has always worn his heart on his sleeve. 

Oh god, he fucked up and accidentally bro-zoned the absolute love of his life.

Braid undid, his boy yawns and stretches his arms out. It reminds Shiro of a cat.

“‘m gonna sleep now,” he says, settling under the blanket and sheets of Shiro’s bed. “Be here when I wake up.”

He’s always busy, always working himself to the bone. Shiro wants to be here- but duty calls. “Keith…”

Keith puts his hand out and gropes the air. Shiro takes his hand reassuringly.

“Please,” Keith whines.

🌠

_ It’s killing me when you’re away. _

_ 🌠 _

He will always remember scanning the meticulously put together poster hung up on one of the walls of Keith's shack. The beginning of the end. The never-ending amount of sticky notes that at first glance, all seemed to drown each other out. Keith was explaining to everyone his findings, and Shiro tried his best to pay attention but his body and mind were already split. Broken. He crashed down to Earth disjointed and dissociative. 

Truthfully he had wanted to sleep more as it was happening. But Keith was one of his only comforts and by the next day after he was rescued he had come to the scary realization that Keith had been abandoned and had been left to his own devices for over a year. So he had stayed in the living room as Keith spoke and others asked.

It was towards the end of the meeting that Shiro spotted the note and hyperfocused on it; it was different from the other sticky notes. The others had equations, one or two words on them, this one had stuck out a little, it was a full sentence. He read it once to himself, then again, and as he absorbed it, the intensity and honesty of it all shocked him and knocked the breath out of him.

He vowed then that he'd never leave Keith- so long as Keith would let him stay.

🌠

“I will be here when you wake up,” Shiro promises, "Tell ATLAS when you’re awake- I’ll come running.”

That satiates Keith, and his hard grip around Shiro’s hand loosens. 

“Thank you, Shiro,” Keith says, smiling wide, “You’re so good to me.”

Shiro studies Keith, his gaze hyper focuses on the scar across Keith’s cheek. It doesn’t look as angry as it did once, now it’s settled quietly into Keith’s skin. The divot in his skin is one of the first things people see when they meet Keith. Shiro sees the way they look at it with wonder or shock. Sometimes both. It flows against his otherwise soft and pretty features. 

Shiro is the cause. 

🌠

He can't quite recall when it exactly happened- when he played Icarus and Keith was the sun. Was it when Shiro delicately trailed the newly healed scar on Keith's face, and his thumb brushed against Keith's chapped lips ever so slightly, or could it have been while he was sprinting to where Keith laid comatose after one of the most harrowing battles during the war- maybe it was the day when the paladins were ordered to spend the day with their loved ones, Keith gave a smile just for Shiro and the two of them spent the day together sharing domestic bliss- Shiro can't pinpoint the moment it clicked.

But time and time again, whether it's after a phone call with Keith, after a training session or Keith having to leave for a new mission after the two of them stroll through the Garrison and chitchat, as soon as Keith is gone, the same mantra appears in his head over and over again.

He will never be enough for Keith.

🌠

“I wish I was,” Shiro whispers weakly Keith’s already fallen asleep. “God, I wish I was.”

🌠

Half a day lulls by, and then ATLAS messages him while he’s ordering cadets around on the main deck.

_ “The black paladin has awakened.” _

Shiro stops mid-sentence.

_ “He has found your bag, Admiral.” _

“What?” Shiro says; the cadets stare at him confusedly.

_ “The black paladin has mistaken it for his own bag. He is currently searching your bag. The bag with the ring.” _

“Well- Stop him!”

_ “The black paladin is unstoppable.” _

Shiro should already know that. God, he should have known this would have come back with a vengeance and bite him in the ass. He doesn’t necessarily sprint, but he does break into a mild jog that sends Matt cackling as he passes by him. 

Their work bags sit side by side, and Keith is flippantly running through Shiro's bag. 

“Keith,” Shiro panics, “what- what are you doing.”

Keith perks up. “Shiro.” The way he says his name could melt thick ice and heavy snow into delicate meadows of perennials. “What’s this? Can I open it?”

Shiro opens his mouth to try and persuade Keith not to, but Keith is some sort of feral tomcat and he doesn’t wait for a response- and the box is already flipped open, and Keith, always forthright, too honest for his own good, asks, “Is this yours-“

“It’s Lance's,” Shiro cuts off as dispassionately as he can appear. “Well, technically it’s Allura’s. It’s for Lance.”

“You don’t say.” Keith simpers and Shiro can’t discern its genuineness. His eyes are covered up. “It’s about time for those two.”

_That’s what they say about us,_ Shiro silently laments.

“Can I take a bath- by myself?”

“Yeah. You can- but are you sure you know your way around?”

“I know what your bathroom looks like,” Keith reassures him, “right to left: shampoo, conditioner, soap. There are the stool and bucket in front. I can’t see it right now, but I have a good memory. I need help setting up the bath, but I have always needed help with that. You don’t have to worry." His voice dims. "I know you’re busy.”

Shiro lets him go- and as he cleans up his apartment waiting, raises an eyebrow when he hears Keith speaking to someone.

"Is he..." Shiro mutters to himself, wondering if Keith's have a conversation with ATLAS or someone on voice chat that's installed into the bathroom; the Admiral of ATLAS always has to be on high alert.

The thought of Keith talking to himself makes Shiro fret about whether or not all of his frequent solo missions are good for Keith's mental health.

Does he do this often, have full-blown conversations with himself? To qualm his worries, Shiro decides then and there that he will quickly scan the bathroom just to be sure that Keith's okay.

And that's all he will do.

He will  _ not _ focus anywhere, he will just scan the room, just to make sure.

By now, Shiro can't hear anyone talking. He opens the door slightly and peeks.

Immediately Shiro realizes that this was quite possibly one of the dumbest decisions he has ever made- as soon as he spots Keith sitting on the stool, shampooing his hair, it's game over. He rakes his eyes over Keith. They showered together while on the Castle of the Lions in the communal showers, but this- this is different.

He hasn't seen Keith naked since immediately after the fight, when Keith washed them both down. His skin has several scars, some he doesn't recognize. His hair, lapped up with suds, runs down his chest. His build is svelte and thick, but now that the war is over and everyone has settled into calmer roles, there’s a certain softness to his features that weren't there prior. Maybe half a jean size.

It fills him out in all the right places. If Keith ever wanted to be one, he’d dominate the instabaddie scene.

Shiro forgets where he is and steps on a patch of water, slipping and almost landing on his ass. The squeak from his shoes makes Keith turns towards the sound. “Shiro?” his voice sounds hoarse. “That you?” Shiro doesn’t respond, entranced by how slim Keith’s waist is. He could wrap his hands around it and have his fingers touch. 

"Is someone there?" Keith asks, his call echoing. “ATLAS? Is someone in here?”

“ _ Don’t you dare, _ ” Shiro orders her telepathically.  _ “Don’t do this to me.” _

_ “Your serotonin levels have risen, Admiral. The black paladin is the cause. Being close to him makes you happy.” _

_ “ATLAS.” _

_ “I have done the calculations. There is a 99.9% probability rate that the black paladin will enjoy your presence in the bathroom.” _

_ “ATLAS-“ _

Even if she’s right, that .01% scares the shit out of him. It all scares him.

“Negative, black paladin.”

“... Okay,” Keith says, suspicious. He reaches for the showerhead. 

Shiro bolts as soundlessly as he can.

However, minutes later, as he lays on his bed, joined to the bathroom, seeing Keith's exposed body still gives shivers down his spine. 

He thinks about stripping Keith in the middle of the congested area and pushing him down, splitting him open. Keith pants from inexperience but adjusts quickly, stumbling back to fuck himself on Shiro's cock and crying like he’s in heat. 

Shiro gets his cock in one hand and rests the other on one of his nipples to tug on it periodically. This fantasy is one of his go-to's, the one he pictures when he's short on time. Like right now, while Keith bathes a room away.

Doing this so close to him pushes Shiro to feel some degree of shame; walking in on Keith's half chub was purely accidental. Keith wasn't aware that Shiro was even there. That fuels his kink even more than he was aware of a few minutes ago.

As he begins to stroke himself, a different fantasy pops into his head. A guilty pleasure; Shiro walks in, and Keith knows he's there. He whines, hard while his hips jut quickly in and out from pleasure.

"Shiro," Keith mewls, spreading his legs, "please."

And Shiro would never turn down Keith's proposition. He nearly dashes towards him, fully clothed and eager to wrap his hand around Keith's cock carefully. They become so close that Keith's face is smothered in Shiro's neck, gasping and moaning hotly against Shiro's ear.

Shiro shudders, pre-come starts leaking. He bites his lip to try and hold back moaning Keith's name.

But then, in his dream which has him by the balls, Shiro pictures Keith sucking on his neck as Shiro speeds up. Keith's teeth sink into Shiro's earlobe and tug; Shiro shivers as he imagines Keith putting claim to him. Wholly enthralled, he doesn't hold back a moan. It's only about his fantasy that's in his mind, everything else is blocked out.

"Shiro?" Keith's voice cuts through, nullifying Shiro's imagination bathroom fucking. 

He said Keith's name.

Out loud.

Keith's out of the bathroom, mostly dry and, now, flushed. A towel is swathed around his slender waist.

Retrospectively, Shiro has been able to conceal and shake off any stares. Some catch on, like the paladins; most don't, like Keith. As Keith stands there, silent, the pink in his face tracing down to his chest, Shiro firstly takes his hand off of his dick and, secondly, tries to save his ass. 

_ "You're my brother." _

He envisions himself instantly in Keith's shoes. The horror that would suck the breath out of someone if a sibling figure touched themselves to them. 

"K-Keith." struggling to say his name distresses him beyond belief. Keith responds by wrapping his arms around himself, nibbling his lip. "I'm so fucking sorry, fuck. I am so-"

"I congratulated Allura," Keith interrupts, his voice uncharacteristically monotone and numb, “She told me you bought the ring for someone."

"Keith-"

Keith shakes his head, hurt. "What am I?" he questions.

Shaken and too exposed, Shiro says, "You're my family."

Keith's arms tighten around himself. Not the right answer.

"Family," Keith quotes in disbelief.

Not good. Not good at all.

Shiro isn't sure how Keith looks, like something feral that's about ready to flee as far as they can, or someone determined to kill Shiro onsite.

"Keith," he starts, trying to explain.

"I want you to be honest with me," Keith responds, his voice wounded. "I was okay with the rejection. I didn't, and don't care, as long as I could remain by your side. But.. you're hiding something from me, and I never get to see you anymore- what am I? Why didn't you tell me you're going to propose to someone?"

Shiro's face shifts from gay panic to gay confusion.

"And I walk out of the shower," Keith exclaims, "and catch," his motions to the room, where Shiro is acting a fool, "this- what am I? Some dirty little secret of yours?"

"Oh my god," Shiro gasps, returning to his gay panic mode.

"Does your fiance know about this?" Keith continues, growing more shocked.

"No, no there's no fiance!" Shiro tries to tell him. 

Keith misinterprets it. "Yeah, because you haven't proposed yet-"

"No! I'm not dating anyone!" Shiro inhales, fighting against his nerves. "I bought the ring for you!"

Keith smacks his hand to his chest, mouth gaping from shock. 

" _ Me _ ?" 

The room spins for Shiro. 

"And it's not some kind of, some kind of friendship ring either, or whatever kind of bullshit- I bought while thinking of Krolia walking you down the aisle to me, I love you- I want to be with you forever."

Keith doesn't react right away; the confession stagnates in their shared space. Shiro feels his face heat up. For once, he's grateful Keith can't see him. He feels wrecked and exhausted and must look it too. 

"You want to marry me," Keith reaffirms softly.

Shiro gets off of the bed while simultaneously hoisting his pants up. There's a time and place to have your dick out; this isn't one of them.

"Unquestionably," Shiro declares, approaching where Keith stands, seemingly frozen in place. 

"That's why you're rubbing one out..?" Keith swallows audibly. "You like me?" 

"I love you," Shiro clarifies. Keith gets redder, he starts twisting his hair around his fingers. It's up for debate on who's blushing more.

"You want to marry me?"

The best dreams Shiro has ever had have been the ones where they share the same surname.

"More than anything."

"The ring is for me?"

"Yeah, and, I'm sorry. I know you don't feel that way- I," Shiro shakes his head, "I don't know what I was thinking-"

"Shiro," Keith interrupts, "You are so dumb. "

That is a word Keith has never ever referred to Shiro as. He freezes, unsure of where Keith is going with this.

“You're rubbing one out 'cause of me; you bought an engagement ring for me. You love me." Keith’s voice shakes. "You love me?" he starts sniffing, and Shiro sees the bandages become translucent from tears. 

"Kei- are you crying?"

Keith covers his face with his hands. His boy's shoulder's shake while cries. Like he can't believe what Shiro's saying. Like he can't believe that Shiro has never loved him back. Shiro's chest swells from adoration-

After the failed Kerberos mission, Shiro carried an aversion of the stars, of space; a result of trauma from the killing arena. It was Keith that made the night sky lovely to look at once more. The way Keith's eyes shined whenever they made eye contact; the love they carried cut out the steadying nihilism that had started to strangle Shiro with its roots. Shiro was his everything- his Earth, his galaxy, the stars and the heavens. 

What Keith may have not realized yet, is that it was Keith who had hung them all up for Shiro to become.

He really is dumb for thinking Keith didn't reciprocate his feelings.

"I love you; I, I thought you," Keith babbles, removing his hands from his face. His nose is dripping with snot. "I thought you were getting married- and everything, everything stopped, it just  _ stopped _ ." 

"I'd never- oh-" Shiro spots the towel loosening around Keith's waist starting to slide down, he clutches it with both of his hands, hoisting it up. "I'd never do that. It's always been you."

Sated, Keith leans forward into Shiro’s arms and rests against his chest. He burrows his face into Shiro's neck; his crying ceases and turns to sniffles. They probably look comical.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Keith admits, muffled. “But I took another pain med before I took the bath; it’s kicking in.”

Shiro tightens the towel around Keith's waist. He’s half-hard, Shiro notices, but as Keith starts drifting off to sleep, while standing up nonetheless, Shiro knows they won’t get further than this. And he's okay with this, holding Keith in his arms is perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> keith: shiwwooo kiss meee ^3^  
> shiro: Sorry Baby... gotta wait 'till the wedding ;^}  
> keith: *groans*


End file.
